


Masked Victories

by bonesofether



Series: MercyKill Week 2018 [7]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 02:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19076077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonesofether/pseuds/bonesofether
Summary: Upon hearing that Talon medic Dr. Ziegler is still working into the early hours of the morning, Reaper decides to pay her a visit.





	Masked Victories

If there was one thing that Reaper still found some humor in, it was noticing how uncomfortable his mere presence could make someone. Watching them squirm and try to look at anything  _ but _ him typically managed to bring a wry grin to his face. So long as he didn’t think too much as to why they were so disconcerted with his presence…

Such was the situation he currently found himself in. He was in one of the elevators with a couple of Talon foot soldiers. Their conversation had immediately died at the mere sight of Reaper, and they had tried to shuffle all the way back as subtly as possible. Now they were casting uneasy glances between themselves and mouthing words silently back and forth.

With his back to them, Reaper could only assume that they were unaware he could discern a majority of their actions via the reflection on the thick, dark, glass doors.

“Have either of you seen Doctor Ziegler?”

Smirking when both soldiers jumped, Reaper tilted his head to indicate he was expecting an answer.

“Uh… N-no, sir.”

There was a pause, and then the second soldier cleared his throat.

“Pretty sure I saw her still in the medbay...sir.”

Good. That was where Reaper was heading. And though he had been expecting to find Angela there, it was a little concerning given how late the hour was. In any case, Reaper didn’t intend to take up too much of her time.

The rest of the elevator ride proceeded in dead silence. Neither soldier said another word, though they continued to have their silent conversation. Of course, Reaper said nothing as he saw no reason to interrupt. Not out of a concern for manners, but because he found what the soldiers had to ‘say’ about him rather interesting. Fortunately, none of it seemed too insulting. As such, he didn’t have to  _ reprimand _ them about being polite.

When the cheerful ding rang out and the doors slid open to the science and medical level, Reaper stepped out and glanced down the hallway to his left. Already he could see light filtering through the doorway to the medical ward. Dr. Ziegler was apparently still there. He started to make his way over there, but paused before the doors slid shut. He looked back to the two soldiers, who immediately stood up a little straighter.

Reaper purposefully let the moment hang, watching with a smirk as the soldiers gazed back at him expectantly. It was only when the elevator dinged again and the doors began to slide shut that Reaper spoke…

“You do know I could see everything in the reflection, right?”

Judging by how fast the soldiers paled and their mortified expressions, they had not been aware of such a fact.

His chuckle echoing in the hallway, Reaper continued on his way to the medical ward. As he neared, he could see the shadow of someone darting back and forth through the small window on the door. Stopping and knocking lightly on the window, Reaper sighed knowingly to himself. Angela had probably been cooped up in there the majority of the day and night.

Immediately after his gloved knuckles tapped against the thick, distorted glass, there was the sound of Angela hurriedly putting things away. She shouted for whoever it was to wait a moment before continuing dart around. The sound of glass and metal clinking could be heard, but, after a few minutes, Reaper could see Angela approaching the door. He shuffled back a pace and waited. While he may have no qualms about scaring the daylights out Talon foot soldiers, he didn’t want to do so to Angela.

The door slowly opened and Angela peeked out. Despite the tired look in her eyes, her hair was still neatly pulled back and her lab coat primly buttoned up. Even so, she blinked quickly and glanced around the hallway, not seeming to notice Reaper. It was at that point he realized he’d shuffled back into the unlit, shadow-soaked hallway and probably blended in better than he wanted to acknowledge.

“Hey, Ang.”

Her blue-eyed gaze snapped to him and the doctor’s expression immediately lit up. She opened the door completely, letting the almost painfully bright light from the room behind her flood the hallway. Even Reaper winced a little as his eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden change, but, of course, the reaction was hidden by his mask.

“Gabr-er, Reaper,” Angela said as she leaned against the doorway, appearing relieved. “You’re up late.”

“I could say the same for you.” Reaper glanced behind Angela, double-checking that she didn’t have a patient. When he saw no one, he looked back to the blonde doctor. “May I come in?”

“Hm? Oh! Of course, of course.”

Quickly shuffling back, Angela ushered Reaper in and shut the door behind him. Of course, the medical bay was spotless. The only indication that Dr. Ziegler had been working was that the trash can by her desk was full and there was a steaming cup of coffee on said desk.

“So, what can I help you with?” Angela asked, leaning against a metal counter.

“Actually…,” Reaper murmured, walking around the room slowly as he studied its contents. “I was coming to see why you were up so late.”

It was mostly the truth. Though Reaper had a suspicion that he already knew why Angela was awake at such an ungodly hour. He just didn’t see any evidence to confirm said suspicion. And as he continued to look around, well aware that Angela was watching him closely, Reaper had to admit he didn’t see anything. Perhaps he had been-

There it was.

Behind Angela and tucked away under a stack of heavy textbooks and papers, was a thick manuscript that Reaper recognized with bitter ease. Even from the distance between him and Dr. Ziegler, and despite her attempts to hide it, he knew what it was. Angela must have realized that he noticed, because there was no missing the brief moment where her eyes widened in alarm.

“You’re still messing with that crap?” Reaper growled.

“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” Angela replied without missing a beat even as she scooted along the desk to try and discreetly hide the stack of papers. “I’ve simply been making sure that everything is in working order for tomorrow. I was...almost on my way out to go to bed.”

“So you poured yourself a fresh cup of coffee?”

Though she started to reply, Angela fell silent when she realized she didn’t have a good answer. Her lips pursed in thought for a moment, though she worked to make the expression seem natural. She then shrugged nonchalantly.

“I was just going to do a little bit of late-night reading before I went to bed. Have to stay awake when doing so.”

“Interesting,” Reaper stated flatly.

He strode over until he was half a step from Dr. Ziegler. The blonde woman had to lean back in order to look up at him, and was doing her absolute best to seem as innocent as possible. It may have fooled most, but Reaper knew Angela better than most. He gazed down at her for a long moment, aware that she couldn’t read his expression through his mask. Then, with a quick, fluid motion, he reached behind her and snatched the thick manuscript out from under its hiding place.

Textbooks toppled over and papers slid across the slick metal countertop, but Angela didn’t seem to notice. Instead she lunged for Reaper, grabbing his wrist. Despite their history, the action still caught Reaper off guard, and his gaze snapped to the blonde doctor. Anger and insult reflexively rose up in him, but Reaper was just as quick to quell the emotions.

Angela Ziegler was one of the very few people who could touch him without forewarning and not worry about a broken arm.

For a moment, the blonde doctor held onto his wrist, silently pleading with her eyes for Reaper to give her back the manuscript. In response, he moved it over to his other hand and held it up. Though he continued to face Angela, his gaze flicked over to the manuscript’s cover.

_ “Repairing Degenerative Cellular Diseases Through Genetic Modification” by Moira O’Deorain. _

Though the contents of the document may have made little sense to Reaper, the title, and, more importantly, the name of the author, brought up a swell of seething fury and bitter regret. As if his mangled appearance wasn’t enough of a reminder of his past mistakes…

“Interesting choice of reading material, Doc,” Reaper grumbled steely.

“Please just give it back, Gabri-.” Stopping herself with a frown, Angela sighed and looked up at the masked man imploring. “ _ Reaper _ . Please, just give it back. That’s currently the only copy I have right now.”

“Is it now?” Unable to help himself, Reaper shoved the document back in Angela’s face with an irritated growl. “I have half a mind to burn it right here, then.”

Alarm shot across Angela’s face and she grabbed the sides of the manuscript as tightly as she could, trying to tug it back into her arms.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Try me,” Reaper sneered, though his concealed expression was completely devoid of humor. “How many times do I have to tell you to stop going through that woman’s work? It’s not going to change a goddamn thing!”

Without thinking twice, Reaper yanked the manuscript down and out of Angela’s hands. She yelped and fell back onto the desk, clutching her hands tightly together to her chest in obvious pain. The realization that he’d hurt Angela cut through whatever frustrated fury Reaper may have been feeling, and he instinctively reached out to her.

“Ang…?”

Though she said nothing, the angry, disapproving glare that Dr. Ziegler shot at him stopped Reaper. He then glanced down at his gloved hand, the fingertips still clad in their sharp metal points. Sighing and letting his hand fall to his side, Reaper tossed the manuscript back onto the countertop in defeat. It thudded on the metal surface, though Reaper would have much preferred to hurl it into the nearest fire he could start.

“Let me see,” he murmured, offering his hand again.

After a moment’s thought of glancing up at Reaper and then down to his hand, Angela slowly extended her own. Blood was still smeared across her palms where the edges of the manuscript had sliced them open. The worst, however, was where the staples had snagged on the soft, fleshy part of her left palm. The wounds were still open, but the bleeding had already started to slow.

Gently taking her hands in his own, Reaper looked over the injuries and sighed heavily.

“They’ll heal,” Angela replied, still looking down at her wounded hands. “...they always do.”

“I know.” Watching with muted fascination as the pale skin began to stitch itself back together and leave  no trace of injury, Reaper carefully held Angela’s hands a little tighter. “...didn’t mean to hurt you, though.”

“I know.”

Her response had barely been above a whisper, and Angela cautiously shuffled a little closer to Reaper. His shoulders slumped in seeming relief, and he gently pulled Angela closer. She didn’t resist, even going so far as to lean lightly against Reaper. It was a reaction he was silently welcomed.

The two continued to watch Angela’s hands heal themselves in silence, huddled up close to each other. When the wounds were completely gone, Reaper reluctantly let go of Angela’s hands. He half-expected her to pull away, but instead, she lifted her hands up to his mask but stopped before actually touching it. Her fingertips hovered questioningly a breath away from the ghoulish disguise, waiting for Reaper’s permission.

He gave it with a single, short nod and nary a second thought.

Angela’s hands slid up underneath the hood of his cloak, brushing against his silver-tinged ebony hair. Reaper was expecting her to immediately remove his mask, but she didn’t. Instead she leaned against him in a somewhat awkward hug, stroking the back of his head and neck. He started to say something, but stopped when Angela sighed heavily.

Reaper knew that sigh. It was a weary sigh of frustration and exhaustion. ...and he absolutely hated hearing it come from Angela. Of all the people in the world, she didn’t deserve to suffer, by any degree, because of his own shortcomings. Past or present.

“I...don’t understand,” Angela finally admitted. The words made her throat clench and she rested her forehead against Reaper’s chest, unable to look up at him. “I’ve gone through everything she’s ever written over, and over, and-”

“Ang…”

“- _ over _ .” Already feeling failure biting at her conscious, Angela frowned deeply and shook her head. “I know I know most of this material. And what I don’t know I can learn. So I don’t-”

“Angela.”

“-understand why  _ it’s not working _ .” Another sigh shuddered from Angela and she clutched at the back of Reaper’s neck as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Nothing I’m doing is working and  _ I don’t know why! _ ”

“Then stop.”

Though she did pause for a moment, Angela smiled weakly and shook her head with a bitter laugh.

“Angela, look at me.”

The blonde doctor shifted her weight slightly, but kept her forehead rested against Reaper’s chest. He carefully hooked his index finger under her chin, pulling her gaze up to him. Her blue eyes were a deep hue of sapphire, looking up at him in a manner that made what little heart he had left ache.

“I just-”

“Sh…” Reaper gently interrupted her by placing his thumb against her lips. “My turn to talk now.”

“...okay.”

Silence hung in the air for a long moment as Reaper tried to think of a way to get through to Angela. They’d had this argument before, sometimes with shouting, sometimes with slammed doors, but the outcome was always the same. She was just as stubborn as he was, and infinitely more brilliant.

Perhaps Reaper’s recompense for everything he had endured was the fact that Dr. Ziegler, against all assumptions and after everything that had happened, had still come to work for Talon. Been absolutely integral in keeping the lot of them alive. ...and was  _ still _ trying to help  _ him _ .

“Just...stop. Stop chasing after something that we both know isn’t going to be fixed. Please,” Reaper finally sighed, letting his free hand rest on Angela’s side. He scoffed lightly, aware she couldn’t see the faint smile on his scarred face. “...and you know I hate having to say that.”

“The first part of your statement? Or ‘please’?” Angela replied with a shaky smirk.

“Both.”

Though her smirk remained, it was soon gone as Angela’s gaze inevitably drifted back to the manuscript still lying on the countertop. Reaper must have noticed, because he gave a gentle tug under Angela’s chin to pull her gaze back to him. Even if his mask was still on, Angela knew the look he was giving her. As awful as it made her feel, she was silently grateful that she didn’t have to look him in the eye. At least, not during this terrible conversation.

“You know I won’t. That I  _ can’t _ .”

“Yes, you can. You can let me take that manuscript, and every last bit of that woman’s research, and burn it in the nearest dumpster until there’s nothing but ash.” Gaze never leaving Angela, Reaper finally sighed and pulled her close. He hugged her as tightly as he dared, finding a bit of assurance in the fact she returned the gesture. “...and even as I say that I know you’re never going to let me.”

“Well, at least you’re right about one thing.”

Reaper’s weak chuckle faded into nothing, and the two stood there tightly embraced in the brightly lit, cold, sterile room.

After a second of deliberation, Angela slowly trailed her fingertips up along the back of Reaper’s neck and then head. Letting them rest on the clasps of his mask, Angela waited. She knew she didn’t even need to say anything. All she had to do was wait for an answer.

“...go ahead.”

With delicate care, Angela undid the clasps of Reaper’s mask. She caught it before it could tumble down, though didn’t immediately pull it away. It occurred to Angela that she would have to look Reaper in the eye now. Though that was now more of an incentive than a deterrent.

Slowly setting aside the mask, Angela looked back up to Reaper. The hood of his cloak was still pulled up, though now it had been pushed back partially. Of course, the deep, revealing scars and marred features didn’t bother her, but Angela mustered up a reassuring smile, nonetheless. She reached up and caressed the side Gabriel’s face, careful to avoid the worst of the scarring.

“That’s better,” Angela whispered sincerely.

“Pretty sure most would beg to differ.”

“Most people are idiots. I’m a doctor. I would know.”

Despite feeling uncomfortably vulnerable without his mask, Gabriel couldn’t help but laugh a little. He leaned into Angela’s knowing touch, not minding if her fingertips found a scar. It wasn’t like he could hide from them all the time.

“I...can only imagine. Bet you’ve got some incredible stories,” Gabriel said with a smirk, slowly bringing his gaze back to Angela’s.

“Oh, I do.” Finally, mercifully, Angela giggled a little. It was short, but it was sincere laughter. “I dare say that any one of the majority of them could be the reason medical confidentiality was invented.”

“Damn. That bad, huh?”

“Absolutely horrifying.”

Their conversation trailed off, and silence returned. For a while, Gabriel was content to let it remain. If there was one fight he was tired of going through, it was this one with Angela. She was one of the few people he  _ didn’t _ want to argue with. And it was a very, very short list to begin with.

“I’m never going to convince you to give this up, am I?” he finally sighed.

“Never.” Angela drew in a breath and gave Gabriel a look that told him everything even before she said it. “I’m not stopping until I’ve healed you.”

“And if you can’t…?”

“That’s not an option.”

Though he laughed, Gabriel hated what he was about to say. Admitting he was irreparable was bad enough, but trying to force Angela to acknowledge it was gut wrenching. Nonetheless, he forced the words while fighting to keep his smile.

“You know as well as I do that it’s probably the only option.”

“I can work with those odds.”

“Angela…”

Biting down on her bottom lip when she realized she’d pushed a little too far, Angela sighed and looked away.

“I’m sorry. I-”

Gabriel’s scarred lips suddenly caught Angela’s, cutting off whatever was left of her reply. Angela melted into the kiss, leaning up against Gabriel and clutching at his shoulders. He held her close, only pulling away just enough to speak.

“No apologies.” Gabriel kissed Angela’s forehead before grinning weakly at her. “Not after everything you’ve done.”

Though it briefly flitted through her mind to say that she had done a whole lot of nothing in her opinion, Angela dismissed the thought. The argument had run its expected course and ended up with a familiar outcome. Angela did have to admit, however, it one of the more preferable outcomes.

Leaning up on her tiptoes, Angela kissed Gabriel again. Her hand once again caressed the side of his face, while the other combed through his silver-black hair slowly. Gabriel’s groaned sigh of contentment was lost against her lips, his hand moving around to rest on the small of her back. Their kiss deepened, with Angela being pulled flush up against Gabriel. She pulled away only to kiss him again, with Gabriel returning the gesture shortly after. There was another kiss, and then another, and another. Both savored the moment and the rare comfort that it offered, with a thousand wordless promises shared in each kiss.

Finally though, and with great reluctance, the two pulled away. Forehead resting together lightly, Gabriel smoothed back Angela’s blonde hair with as much care as he could manage. He then let his hand rest on the back of her neck, though his other hand remained on the small of her back to keep her held close.

“Can I at least convince you to stop for tonight?” Gabriel asked, looking down at Angela.

“Hm…”

“Ang, it’s almost three in the morning. You need to rest. Otherwise you’re going to be dead on your feet tomorrow-er, later this morning.”

“I...suppose so.” Angela smirked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that enough of a victory to tide you over for now?”

“I’ll take it,” Gabriel said with a relieved chuckle. He then motioned to the door with a short jerk of his head. “Come on. I’ll walk you back to your quarters.”

Nodding, Angela stepped back and picked up the mask from where she had left it. She turned to Gabriel and held it up. When he nodded, she quickly shuffled forward and carefully put it on him. She took care not to catch his hair in the clasps, though let him do the final tweaking so that he could see properly. Once he was finished, Angela stood up on her tiptoes and pulled the hood back over his head. She then stepped back and looked Reaper over quickly before nodding in approval.

“All set.”

“Alright. Let’s go.”

Following Reaper out of the medical ward room, Angela clicked off the lights. She cast one last look over her shoulder at the thick manuscript on the countertop, sighing. A gentle tug on her arm from Reaper pulled her out of her thoughts, and Angela smiled weakly at him before turning off the final light.

She would just have to start again in the morning…

The two walked the rest of the way in relative silence, though during the elevator ride up Reaper did tell Angela about the two foot soldiers he’d managed to briefly scare speechless. The story earned another, sincere laugh from Angela, so the retelling was certainly worth it.

It was only when they got to the door of Angela’s living quarters that she paused. For a moment, Reaper thought she had something else to say on their earlier discussion. Then an inviting, slightly coy, smile spread across her lips and she looked up at Reaper with a tilt of her head.

“Any chance I could convince you to spend the night?”

“Now that’s a victory you can always have over me.”


End file.
